


Lesson One, Rule Three

by 27dragons, sara_holmes



Series: The Bucky Barnes guide on how to deal with crazy superheroes. [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers Family, Bucky Barnes Feels, Family Dinners, Fluff and Humor, M/M, POV Bucky Barnes, Team Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-10
Updated: 2014-07-10
Packaged: 2018-02-08 08:02:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1933137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/27dragons/pseuds/27dragons, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sara_holmes/pseuds/sara_holmes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ever since Bucky arrived at Avengers' Tower, Steve has been insiting that he <i>do things</i>, apparently for <i>his own good</i>. Bucky’s pretty sure Steve is crazy, and that this latest idea is his stupidest one yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lesson One, Rule Three

**Author's Note:**

> This is the product of headcanons that got out of hand and a session of simultaneous writing on a shared GoogleDoc. Enjoy.
> 
> Feel free to come play on Tumblr! [Everyworldneedslove](http://everyworldneedslove.tumblr.com/), [Sara Holmes](http://captn-sara-holmes.tumblr.com/)  
> 

Bucky Barnes had learned long, long ago that there was just about no way of talking Steve Rogers out of something when he’d set his mind to it. It was sometimes a quite endearing trait, which made Bucky smile, chest swelling with fierce pride as Steve stood his ground and did the right thing, the good thing. Other times it made Bucky want to groan and bury his face in his hands, muttering _“Steve, no,”_ like it was going to make a blind bit of difference. Here in the bright new future that he’d somehow stumbled into, he was finding that it was mostly the latter, because most of Steve’s determined ideas involved getting Bucky to _do things,_ apparently for his own good and emotional wellbeing.

Bucky was not a pushover and did hold a certain degree of immunity against Steve’s puppy dog eyes and the determined jut of his chin, so when Steve decided that Bucky needed to join the team - the whole team, the team of goddamn _superheroes_ \- for dinner, his initial response was a frank and flat _‘hell no.’_  

He then endured six weeks of casual suggestion, several motivational speeches, countless reassurances and one downright underhanded bit of emotional manipulation before he gave in and and agreed to join the team for one of their stupid dinners.  

He’d tried. He’d dug his heels in and tried, but the moment that Steve recruited Sam onto "team bully Bucky into doing dumb stuff because he thinks it’s a swell idea" his resolve started to crumble. It was an utter dick move on Steve’s part, mostly because Bucky _liked_ Sam. He was just so rational and easy going and _cool_ , and despite everything that had happened, he’d been nothing but accepting of Bucky. To Bucky’s alarm, he’d found that the jerk was almost as difficult to say no to as Steve was.

Not that he’d admit it to Steve, but he was nervous. He’d spent so long being a bad guy that the thought of rubbing shoulders with people who saved the world for a living made his stomach tighten and set his teeth on edge. He could easily imagine how they’d all feel about him encroaching on the time they spent as a team; they probably wouldn’t say anything outright if Steve was there, but he could anticipate the wary glances, the raised eyebrows, the frowns that said more than words ever could.

No. Bucky was not entirely convinced. Actually, he was not remotely convinced because aside from how he felt about the situation, he’d met the rest of the so-called team in separate encounters and was already pretty sure they were insane. Putting them all together in one room for any extended period of time seemed like a dumb idea at best.

And yet, Thursday night came around and he found himself standing in the middle of the communal floor with his hands shoved in his pockets, ignoring Steve on principle and staring at what he assumed was the table. He was guessing it was the table, anyway, because he couldn’t actually see it past the frankly staggering amount of food that was already set out.

His mouth was already watering. He didn’t think he’d seen so much food in once place since...well, since ever.

He stared at Steve, hoping for some sort of explanation, but Steve was just walking over towards the sink and looking completely relaxed, as if this sort of feast was an everyday occurrence. “Wash up, dig in,” he said easily to Bucky. “Have anything you like, but if you’re partial to anything in particular you better move quickly-”

“Move quickly? What, like you’re gonna run out or something?” Bucky asked skeptically. “Have you seen the amount of food here?”

"Is there pizza? Tell me there's pizza." Appearing from nowhere, Clint edged past Bucky and Bucky took an immediate and reflexive step back, wondering A) where the hell Clint had come from and B) how he’d gotten so close without Bucky noticing.

Bucky tensed and waited, but to his surprise, Clint didn’t so much as glance at him.  Instead, he made a beeline for the table, but only made a few steps before Steve grabbed him by the back of the shirt, stopping him in his tracks. “Wash up,” Steve said. “And no weapons at the table, you know the rule.”

“Aw, Cap,” Clint whined, but Steve seemed resolute.

“No weapons at the table. One rule, Clint.”

Clint groaned and began divesting himself of weapons: pistol, knives, taser, backup pistol, a brace of small throwing knives...That was an awful lot of weapons for a man who didn't even have any sleeves on his shirt. Bucky wasn't sure whether he should be approving or worried. Maybe both.

“Good choice, Legolas,” a voice said from behind them, and Bucky watched as Tony sauntered up, eyes on the phone in his hand and thumbs moving quickly over the keypad. “You heard Mama Rogers, no weapons at the dinner table.”

For the second time that evening, Bucky braced himself. Sure, Tony had been perfectly polite when Bucky had met him before - though he had expressed a worrying and potentially unhealthy level of interest in Bucky’s arm - but that didn’t mean that he would be cool with Bucky intruding on the team dinner. As he passed by, Tony looked up briefly and nodded at Bucky distractedly before going back to whatever he was doing on the little glass screen that was supposedly a phone. A little wrong-footed and slightly suspicious about the lack of negative reaction so far, Bucky edged a step closer to the table.  

“No phones, either,” Steve said, and swiped the phone out of Tony’s grip.  

"Hey!" Tony protested, grabbing for the phone and missing. "You said _one_ rule. That's two."

“Three,” Natasha added, also appearing from _nowhere_ and slipping gracefully onto a chair. “You’re forgetting the most important rule of them all.”

Despite himself, Bucky felt curious enough to ask. “I’m probably going to regret this, but what’s rule three?”

“Don’t take Steve’s food,” Clint, Tony and Natasha all immediately replied. Now it was Steve’s turn to look offended. Amused, Bucky quirked an eyebrow at Steve, who just scowled and folded his arms across his chest.

“That’s not a rule, that’s just manners.”

"It's a rule if you want to _live_ ," Clint whispered dramatically to Bucky, and Bucky felt the unease and suspicion start to bleed away, almost daring to think they really didn’t mind having him and his baggage in the room.

Deprived of his phone, Tony seemed to zero in on the closest alternate piece of technology, which just happened to be Bucky's arm. His eyes were slightly narrowed and the expression on his face was two parts curious and one part greedy, the look of someone who very badly wanted to take something to pieces to see how it worked. Bucky cleared his throat, and when Tony didn’t stop with the looking, clicked his fingers in Tony’s face.

“Hey. Eyes up here.”

“Sorry,” said Tony, not sounding it. “You know, if you’d just let me-”

“ _No,_ Tony,” Steve said, and gave Tony a shove towards the table. Tony stared belligerently at Steve. Steve stared back. Tony spread his hands out in a wordless gesture. Steve raised his eyebrows and Tony sighed explosively, dropping into a chair with a bad grace.

Bucky was distracted from trying to decipher _that_ wordless conversation by the arrival of Sam and Bruce. Without a word, Bruce dropped into a chair seemingly at random and started serving himself from what looked like a carton of Pad Thai. Sam eyed the table and picked out a chair with more deliberation, though Bucky wasn't sure what his criteria for the choice were. He had his suspicions, mostly founded on the way Sam’s eyes oh-so-casually flicked to Natasha once he was seated. Clint perched on the back of the chair next to Natasha, only dropping into the seat when Steve leveled a glare at him.

“How come I got all my stuff confiscated and no-one asked you?” Clint asked Natasha as he reached for a plate. “I will surrender my _eyes_ if you’ve not got anything on you.”

Natasha rounded her eyes at Clint. "I left all my stuff outside," she said, and even though Bucky had only properly met her twice and didn't know her well yet, he was not fooled by her innocent act. He was pretty sure no one else was, either.

“Technically, she can use anything up to and including her underwear as a weapon,” Tony said vaguely, eyes back on his phone that he’d apparently already liberated from Steve’s pocket. “So unless we take everything…”

Clint paused for a moment and then shrugged, conceding the point.

"There's no need to bring up anyone's underwear at the table," Steve said, exasperated, but his protest went unheeded as the elevator doors slid open and yet another body joined them. The body in question was the only member of the team that Bucky had yet to officially meet; Steve had described Thor as a big guy, but Steve clearly needed to work on his vocabulary because the phrase _a big guy_ did not do Thor justice in any way shape or form. Maybe Steve’s perceptions of size had been completely shot to hell since he’d been serummed, Bucky didn’t know.

“Thor! My favorite guy in all the realms!” Tony immediately perked up. “Did you bring me back any Asgardian goodies? Any weapons tech for me to dismantle? Did you?”

"I thought you weren't doing weapons any more," Clint said, only a little snidely, as he reached for pizza.

“Barton, feel free to go fuck yourself at any point. And pass the pasta.”

Sam looked up and caught Bucky's eye. "Seriously, dude," he said solemnly, "if you want to eat, you'd best get with it. These guys do not screw around when it comes to food."

It took Bucky perhaps thirty seconds to realize that Sam wasn’t exaggerating. As he sat, wedged in between Tony and Sam, he watched the others dig in to the food like they hadn’t eaten in weeks. Suddenly, the amount of food made perfect sense; Thor and Steve both seemed determined to inhale everything within reach, and even the others were only pausing eating in order to bicker or request _more_ food.

Tony elbowed Bucky. "You should eat," he muttered. "Steve will start up with the whole mother hen routine if you let your baseline maintenance drop." He shot a look at Steve across the table. "Trust me." He picked up the nearest container -- the carton suggested Chinese -- and handed it to Bucky pointedly before going back to his own food.

Bucky narrowed his eyes at Tony, but Tony's attention was already elsewhere, badgering Bruce about something to do with experimental fluctuations and variation sigmas. By the looks of things, Bruce wasn’t having any of it and was just smiling and nodding, letting Tony talk himself round in a circle. It looked to be a surprisingly effective tactic, and Bucky made a note in his _How to Deal With Crazy Superheroes_ mental guide.

On Bucky's other side, Sam was gesturing with his fork at Natasha and Clint, who had been throwing bits of food into each other's mouths. "You two are adorable," he said. "Really. When's the wedding?"

Natasha smirked. "How do you know there hasn't been one already?"

Thor straightened. "Should I be wishing you congratulations, my friends?" He sounded entirely too happy. By contrast, Bucky noticed, Sam was looking less than thrilled.

Clint groaned. "No. She's pulling Sam's leg, Thor." He glared at Natasha. "How come everyone believes you when you say things that aren't true, and no one believes me when I say things that _are_?"

Natasha tipped her head, pretending to consider. "Mumbai?" she suggested.

Clint threw a roll at her head. "Christ, that was _one time._ " Bucky half expected Steve to call Clint out for resorting to using the bread as a weapon, but he was engrossed in conversation with Bruce and Thor.

Tony nudged Bucky with his elbow, discreetly holding his phone out so Bucky could see. Frowning, Bucky glanced over and saw a message already composed, ready to send to Natasha, of all people. _‘I bet you a thousand dollars you can't get Clint to steal Steve’s last slice of pizza.’_

“Aw, no,” Bucky said, shaking his head. “That’s cruel.”

“And potentially dangerous,” Tony said, far too happily, and hit send.

Part of Bucky wanted to call a veto on the scheme, because it seemed to him that people were ganging up on Steve and that thought lit a fierce, protective spark in his chest because picking on Steve was _not okay._ However, another part of him was pretty sure it wasn't meant maliciously and that Steve was a big boy and could take a joke. Besides, he kinda wanted to see if _‘rule three’_ was actually a thing.

And it was already too late to object anyway, because Natasha had leaned closer to Clint and was whispering in his ear. Bucky hadn't even seen her look at her phone.

Clint raised his eyebrows at Natasha and, without bothering to try to keep his voice down, said, "Kiev?"

Natasha rolled her eyes and reached for the salad bowl. "I was thinking Cordoba, actually."

"One of these days," Bruce said, "I am going to get Tony to pass me all your files so I can follow these conversations."

"Won't help any," Tony said. "Trust me, I've tried. Hey, can you feel this?"

Without pausing, Tony leaned back and jabbed Bucky in the arm with his fork. Bucky smacked his hand away without even thinking about it, and Tony reared back, holding his hands up by his shoulders as if surrendering.

“The hell is wrong with you?” Bucky gaped, rubbing his metal arm unconsciously with his right hand.

“It’s for science,” Tony replied in a tone of voice that suggested Bucky was being unreasonable, and turned the fork over in his hand, angled for another jab-

“Tony, _no.”_

Steve’s voice rang out and Tony immediately turned away from Bucky, twirling the fork in his fingers like a baton. He grinned at Steve across the table.

“For science,” he repeated, and Steve rolled his eyes.

“I distinctly remember banning you from using ‘for science’ as a reason for your bad behavior.”

Tony put his hand over his chest as if in shock. "Steve Rogers, _are you an enemy of science?"_

“The way you go about science, yes I am,” Steve shot back.

“Bruce, did you hear that? He’s banning science-”

“Oh no,” Steve said. “Bruce can science all he wants.”

Bruce managed to look both smug and innocent at the same time. Tony looked outraged and glared across the table at Steve. Bucky watched, waiting for a the argument to escalate, but Steve simply raised his eyebrows with a grin and Tony’s scowl slid right off his face, replaced by an unwilling smile.

“Stop with the face, Rogers,” Tony grumbled, but Bucky could still see the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, and Steve was still grinning back like an idiot. Bucky looked at Steve and then at Tony, and Steve’s eyes were still fixed on Tony across the table and Bucky had only ever seen Steve make eyes like that at one person before-

His jaw dropped. “Are you kidding me right now?”

Bucky's loud voice seemed to shock the goddamn expression right off Steve’s face; he jumped, looking up at Bucky, and color bloomed over his cheekbones, blotchy and pink. He opened his mouth and then shut it again, rubbing awkwardly at the back of his neck. Next to Bucky, Sam was shaking with silent laughter, palm covering his mouth.

“Uh,” Steve began, and turned towards Bucky. “Well.”

Natasha's eyes lit up. She leaned forward on her elbows as if watching a particularly engaging show. Clint looked from Bucky to Steve to Tony, and then casually leaned across Bruce, fork edging towards Steve’s plate.

“Let me guess, your spy senses are tingling,” Tony said dryly to Bucky, and Steve shot him a dirty look across the table. “Hey," Tony protested, "there is no way in hell you can make this either my fault or science’s fault-”

Bruce looked at Clint, and Clint's fork, and the gleam in Clint's eye, and prudently leaned back out of the way. Thor, finally alerted to the shenanigans, looked up from his plate. His eyes swept the table and acquired a gleam of amusement. Like Natasha, he seemed to be settling in to enjoy the entertainment. Jeez, no wonder no-one had time to be bothered about Bucky being there for dinner if this was the usual circus.

“It’s always your fault,” Steve was saying to Tony. “Ninety-nine percent of everything-”

“Who taught you math? Ninety-nine percent is not _always._ ”

Clint’s fork shot out and Bucky barely saw the slice of pizza move before it vanished. Natasha raised her hand and Clint high-fived her with a grin.

“In cash, Stark," Natasha said, and Bucky started to laugh. He laughed so hard he had to lean over the table, clutching it with both hands. Startled, Steve looked away from Tony to Bucky, and then glanced down to see his empty plate.

“Goddamn it, Clint!”

Bucky thought Clint had moved quickly when stealing the pizza. It had nothing on how fast he vaulted away from the table at Steve’s bellow, dancing just out of reach with the slice of pizza in hand. Bucky and Sam were now laughing so hard they were crying, Thor was chortling, and Tony was lolling back in his chair, clutching his sides. Even Bruce was chuckling.

“That was my last goddamn slice! Come on!" Steve started to protest angrily, and then seemed to deflate as gales of laughter continued. "You know what, fuck you guys,” he said, somewhere between annoyed and resigned, and everyone just laughed harder.

“So that’s rule three,” Bucky gasped, and Steve rounded on him, pointing an accusing finger at him.

“You know what, next time Tony tries to take your arm, I’m gonna let him. See if I care.”

Tony brightened. "Really?!"

Bucky managed to get his laughter under control enough to speak, rubbing at his ribs with his metal hand and breathing deeply. His jaw ached; he couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed, let alone this hard. "Not a chance, buddy."

Tony whined. "But I can make it so much _better_..."

“Yeah, I know you probably could, but it’s my _arm_ you’re wanting to dismantle,” Bucky said pointedly, because he felt like Tony was missing the fact the shiny technology he was making grabby hands at was actually part of him. “At least trying asking first.”

Tony threw a startled look at Steve, who looked just as surprised.

“Okay, Mister Sergeant Bucky Barnes Sir, can I please take your sorry excuse for a cybernetic arm and turn it into a thing of terror and beauty?”

"No science at the table," murmured Bruce, smirking.

“Yeah, what he said,” Bucky nodded towards Bruce, and then shrugged, thinking that it was probably just better to go along with it before Tony got more irritating or resorted to something drastic. “Okay, fine. Later, I guess.”

And Steve was grinning across the table at him like he’d said something amazing, and Tony was nodding and looking vaguely impressed. It wasn’t even just those two; Bucky could feel everyone’s their eyes on him, and wow, it was like an eleven on the uncomfortable scale.  _Jesus_ . There was literally a  _god_ sitting there eating an apocalyptic amount of Thai curry, two ex-assassins had tried to bring an undisclosed amount of weapons into the room, they were all fighting over food like children and Steve had managed to out himself at the goddamn dinner table, but for some reason everyone was deciding to be hung up on Bucky agreeing to let Tony poke at his arm, looking at him like he was a damn miracle or something. Still standing behind Natasha, Clint sniffed and mimed wiping away a tear.

“Right in the feels.”

The tension broke. Tony and Natasha both rolled their eyes and called Clint an idiot in two different languages (neither of which were English, oddly enough) while Sam offered _his_ last piece of pizza to Steve, who hesitated politely but then took it anyway.

Bucky shook his head and grabbed his barely touched carton of food off the table, suddenly feeling hungry. As he ate, he was content to sit and watch the others, taking stock of the subtleties in their interactions, the movements and expressions that spoke volumes. Well, the whatever-it-was between Tony and Steve wasn’t exactly subtle; now he’d seen it, it seemed shockingly obvious, and the moment the rest of the team cleared off he was _so_ going to put Steve through the ringer about it.

Aside from the way Steve and Tony kept looking at each other (and brushing past each other, and talking to each other, and having more of those weird non-verbal conversations) he noticed a multitude of other things as well; the way Natasha kept periodically lifting her eyes to check the exits, the way Sam kept discreetly looking over at Natasha. The fact that Clint had hoarded various bits of food in a carton by his elbow, though didn’t look like was going to eat it. The way Bruce smiled quietly as he listened, back straightening ever so slightly when the conversation turned to science. The seriousness of Thor’s gaze when he looked out of the window at the steadily darkening sky.

He was still eating as the others moved away from the table, though they didn’t go far. Clint and Tony both headed straight for the couches, arguing over what they wanted to watch, and why was Bucky not surprised that team dinner night included sitting together to watch a film? Natasha and Bruce started clearing up, and Thor and Sam were manning the refrigerator, pulling out drinks for everyone.

“What would you like?” Thor’s deep voice made Bucky look up, startled at being addressed.

“A beer, I guess,” he shrugged, and Thor tossed one over. Bucky caught it reflexively in his good hand, setting it down next to his carton. “Thanks.”

“So, what happened to team dinner being the worst thing ever?” Steve asked in a low voice, stepping up and leaning on the table next to Bucky, smiling as he watched the rest of the team.

“What happened to you being straight?” Bucky retorted, and Steve just laughed, neck flushing pink.

“Alright, alright,” Steve said, reaching for a spring roll from the plate next to Bucky’s elbow. Bucky smacked his hand away, ignoring the wounded look Steve sent his way.

“They're mine, you hypocrite.”

“Fine,” Steve rolled his eyes and grabbed a samosa instead. “Not the worst thing ever?” he pressed, and Bucky sighed, looking at his carton of chow mein so he didn’t have to look at the stupid hopeful expression on Steve’s face.

He glanced up, looking across the room at the others, mouth hitching in a smile.

“You win this one, Rogers,” he capitulated, and Steve’s smile made conceding the point feel almost okay. “Maybe it’s not the worst thing ever.”

 

 


End file.
